Page 8 of The Mage’s Rake (Catkin Trilogy #2)

Alan

T he next morning dawned dull and gray. At first, I could hardly tell whether it was morning or not.

When I recognized the faint light peeking through the thick curtains that I had pulled over the fogged-up window panes, I groaned and instinctively burrowed deeper under my blankets.

The promise of a cold sunless day was not about to entice me from my bed. That, I promised myself.

“Rise and shine, buttercup!”

The two thick quilts that I had pulled up over my head suddenly whipped off the bed, startling me with instant chilliness.

I wailed and flailed about, momentarily flustered and shocked due to the sudden loss of life-giving warmth.

Then, recognizing the voice, I groaned and curled up shivering.

Instantly, my blankets descended upon me.

I cracked open an eye and glared at the offending party—Hugh.

Hugh, who stood, hands on hips, already dressed and groomed for the day.

Hugh, looking blastedly cheerful for a tomcat who was facing imminent death.

Hugh, who, despite his smile, had a certain edge about him this morning.

Or perhaps I was just imagining it or seeing things with my blurry morning vision.

My hand reached out, feeling about for my spectacles.

The cool metal frames slipped into my hands, gently placed there by my current thorn in the flesh.

I slipped them on, opened my eyes, verified that Hugh had indeed planted himself in the armchair by my bed, and allowed my head to fall back onto my thick fluffy pillows with a groan.

“It’s not that early,” Hugh said with a snort. “Or have you been up, imbibing some unknown liquor I have not yet heard of? A party I missed out on?”

“No liquor, no parties, nothing like that,” I muttered. “Simply a case of being roused on a dull day by an overly loud and cheery friend.”

“Oh, a friend, eh?” Hugh’s ears twitched flirtatiously, and his tail unfurled slowly as though he’d scented prey.

I sighed over the slip of my tongue. The last thing I needed was more of Hugh’s teasing in my life.

Without Hugh always present and noticing me, I could content myself with the mundane rituals of my days.

I would never fall into the illusion of what Hugh offered—freedom and adventure.

It was better that I knew my place and stuck to it.

After all, if I failed King Landis, he would surely send me back to the Tower, replacing me with another mage.

The sound of pages flipping brought me out of my dark thoughts.

I turned my head and saw a rare sight—Hugh actually reading one of the books he’d taken from off my night stand.

It was rather… eye-catching, to be honest. The way his dark eyebrows furrowed, the sharp glint in his eye, and the manner in which his pouty lips pursed in thought.

Hugh looked up and caught me staring at him.

I fought the urge to bury myself under my bed covers again.

Instead, I haughtily rose, allowing Hugh to note my very plain gray-white night robes that were chastely buttoned up to my chin and fell to the floor, hiding my feet. Hugh raised an eye but didn’t say anything.

“We have more investigating to do,” Hugh explained finally, shutting his book with a snap.

As I dressed, Hugh outlined his plans for the both of us.

Breakfast first. Then we would return to my alchemical laboratory to ascertain what my new potion would reveal.

Hugh had, apparently, already been up, questioning the staff as well.

The night before, after we had ensured that Hugh was safe in his bed, Aileen had set aside the food Hugh had eaten that night in his rooms. Of course, I began testing various dishes and beverages for any sign of a potion right away, but one reagent had to be brewed again overnight, forcing me to retire and wait until morning to complete my testing.

“A potion?” Hugh asked, startled. “I thought a curse like mine would involve something more…”

He trailed off. I poked my head out from behind the wooden dressing screen in the corner of my room. Hugh gave me a meaningful look that I failed to interpret. Then he held up his hands in a prancing kind of way and whirled about in some kind of weird dance.

“Ritual,” he finally said.

I snorted a little at his antics and finished pulling on my pants. Once I was dressed, I emerged and shot him a look.

“There was definitely a ritual,” I told him.

“However, more complex rituals require two steps or even more.

Such as placing a token of the target into a channeling object, such as a straw doll, or opening the spirit aura of the target with a potion, more than likely to do with letting the defenses down in a natural sense. Some might say unnecessary, but—“

Hugh nodded and waved a hand dismissively.

“I get it, I get it,” he said. “Are you ready? I am famished!”

After breakfast, I completed the tests easily enough.

While I verified which of Hugh’s food was tampered with, Hugh embarked on a long-winded explanation of what his early morning investigations revealed—not much.

Anyone could have entered the busy kitchens and added anything to any dish.

The doors were open most times of the day, and they could have doctored loads of dishes.

“Security is rather… slack,” Hugh admitted, “especially around Wintermas. Alarmingly slack. I shall be requiring the guards to verify everyone who enters in or out. I will ask Gareth for permission to make contact with one of his Blades to ask for backup if need be.”

“Unless the culprit is someone like… you know who,” I pointed out in vague allusion to the crown’s nemesis, Lord Morne. “In which case, we could have all the Blades of the kingdom at our back, but we won’t be able to stop him.”

“Yes.” Hugh winced. “That’s what worries me. And what if they did doctor all of the wine or tea? Is everyone about to be cursed now?”

“It’s the tea,” I said, as the droplet of red tea on the silver platter emitted a tell-tale puff of black smoke. “And no, Hugh. As I said, there would have been another step—as you noted, a ritual, that would have involved saying your name, perhaps even using a lock of your hair.”

Hugh ran his hands through his wild mane thoughtfully.

“Someone took my hair? How? When?”

“Who knows? You do tend to…” Sleep around , I thought. “…sleep in…”

I wracked my mind for an appropriate and polite colloquialism, but my lack of experience in the matter showed. Words failed me. Hugh, however, caught my meaning easily enough and grimaced.

“Now I feel just grand,” he said sarcastically. “Am I to watch what my lovers do to me while I sleep? How is a tom to get any shuteye?”

“Or perhaps you behave a bit more circumspectly in the days to come,” I said primly.

Ignoring his muttering, I focused on the tea cup and teapot nearby.

Using a combination of spells and herbs, I managed to analyze the ingredients of the tea.

Red mallorn leaf from the south… and something more insidious—a combination of perallin, shadowmoss, and moonblossom.

The shadowmoss in particular caught my eye.

I hummed to myself as I shifted the focus of my white, glowing analysis sigil which slowly rotated above the silver platter now holding several spoons of the tainted tea.

“What?” asked Hugh.

“What?”

“You said, ‘Hm.’”

“Oh. Yes, well, there is a clue, I think, in the potion itself. The shadowmoss is of substandard quality. We can safely iron out everyone we spoke with in the city after all. Even Mowen.”

“Really?” Hugh frowned. “I feel like that is as much bad news as it is good.”

“Yes, well, there it is. I’m sure you don’t care about the details—“ Hugh shrugged and nodded in abashed agreement. ”—but in short, the shadowmoss is not pure.

It was mixed with a southern variant. This points to an alchemist with poor stock or uncertain access to stock.

The undermarket, perhaps. You know, the black market. ”

“There are a few places we could look at on the outskirts of the city,” Hugh suggested slowly. “Outside the walls of Rimefrost, there’s the Lower Rime, and I’m certain I’ve heard of—er, well interacted with—a variety of, well, you know…”

“Hugh!” My tail fluffed out in shock. “You went looking for some dark potions and bought them off some third-rate potions maker…!”

Hugh flushed.

“You should at least attempt to come to me first.” I folded my arms and glared at him. “I can brew just about anything. And I’m the soul of discretion. If you are having issues—“

“Not my issues,” Hugh said hastily, “but I shall bear it in mind… in the future.”

I shot him a warning glare and then focused on cleaning up after my experiments.

Once I had ensured everything was cleared and stored neatly away, I prepared to leave the castle with Hugh once more.

Hugh, however, was called away to discuss some matters with the guards and then had to give King Landis a short report on our investigations into the assassin’s poison.

By the time he was finished, I was more than ready to depart.

Under gray skies promising more snow, we rode out on horseback.

Hugh was in high spirits. Whatever he might truly be thinking was buried deeply, and I felt as though I could not ask.

Instead, I allowed our conversation to meander.

I shared the recent advances I had made with my fertility potion and how my first trial subject was doing.

Hugh gave me an update on Landis’s Wintermas celebrations.

Apparently, both Landis and Corrin wished to make their first Wintermas together very special.

That meant a lot of feasting and parties, which I knew Hugh would enjoy even if I did not.